


Nightmare

by perksofbeingauselesslesbian



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Nightmares, all that good stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 18:20:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7812283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perksofbeingauselesslesbian/pseuds/perksofbeingauselesslesbian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tracer and her chronal accelerator.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> Toot toot all aboard the angst train. I'm sorry this is a mess of tenses.  
> Massive thanks to @almoris on tumblr for letting me throw my angst ideas at you and discussing headcanons with me. Almoris had also brought to my attention that this song fits very well with this fic: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H3T2RnTBp_4

It had been almost a year since they had started screwing, less than that since they had started formally seeing each other and less again since they had started sharing a bed to just sleep.  
Widowmaker had only ever seen Lena out of her chronal accelerator harness once, when five of her team mates had to hold her screaming, writhing form to the bed whilst Mercy dug a bullet out of her chest. Lena had clawed at the harness, trying in vain to hold it to her chest, as if to keep herself from falling apart.  
There had been a small circle of metal underneath, a tiny blue light flickering along to an unheard heartbeat in the centre. Unheard to Widowmaker, perched on a cold roof, peering down the scope of her rifle. The stirrings of something bubbled in her stomach as she saw Lena’s back arch with an almighty scream, begging not to be taken out of the harness, just to let her die, that she would never forgive them if they let her fall back into the slipstream again.  
Widowmaker knows that Lena didn’t fall back into the slipstream that day, at least as much as she tells her during one of their nights together.  
Of all the nights they had spent together, Lena had never taken the harness off. She always slept on her sides, to keep from lying on the bulky apparatus. Widowmaker had been tempted to ask her why she kept it on a great number of times, but with Lena’s pleas from that day echoing in her mind, she had dismissed the thought quickly.  
Even after Overwatch had brought her in and begun her reconditioning, Widowmaker still had yet to see Lena take her accelerator off voluntarily.  
\--  
Tensions had been running high for a while now. Talon had discovered their base and laid siege to it, making it unliveable. Laying low was difficult, especially for someone with blue skin, but Widowmaker made do with what she was given.  
Lena had fallen asleep on the couch watching reruns of some cooking show, nestled in Widowmaker’s arms. She hadn’t woken, even as Widow carried her to their room and laid her down. Nor had she woken when Widowmaker slid in front of her and pulled her arm across her waist, the accelerator digging into her spine.  
When Widowmaker woke up in the very early morning, she had turned over sometime in the night to face Lena, who was in the throes of a nightmare.  
Lena Oxton was scared. Screw that; she was terrified. Widowmaker could read her fear as plain as words on a page. And Lena’s body was a story.  
Her shoulders were tight and drawn up to her ears, legs hugged close to her chest with her arms locking them in place.  
Her face was screwed up, pained even in sleep. Tears slid their way across her nose and into the pillow as she whimpered and sobbed.  
“Chérie,” Widowmaker leaned up on her elbow, calling out to Lena.  
Lena only sobbed harder and began to dig her nails into her biceps.  
“Lena, chérie, wake up,” Widowmaker sat up and pulled the sobbing girl into her lap, turning her onto her back. She pulled her arms away from her legs and began to stroke through her sweaty hair, muttering nonsense to her in French.  
Lena awoke with a start, sitting up abruptly and narrowly missing Widowmaker’s nose. Her breath came in gasps and her small shoulders shook as she sagged against Widowmaker.  
“Sorry ‘about that luv,” she mumbled.  
Widowmaker simply grunted and continued to card her fingers through her unkempt hair, working out the snags.  
Lena breathed shakily for a few moments more, gathering her strength.  
“Why don’t you kick the blankets off? Might help with the claustrophobia.”  
Lena did as she was told but still fidgeted, turning in Widowmaker’s lap.  
“Take this off too,” Widowmaker didn’t think before reaching for the straps of the chronal accelerator harness.  
“No! Don’t touch that!” Lena yelled and launched herself out of Widowmaker’s embrace, hitting the wall at the foot of the bed.  
“Okay, I’m not touching it. It’s okay. I’m sure it can be fixed,” Widowmaker raises her hands and slides out of bed, approaching Lena slowly.  
With that, her face drops.  
“It’s not something that can be fixed. It’s something that will always be with me, and I have to carry the weight of it every day,” Lena angrily gestures to the accelerator under her shirt.  
“I know. Just come back to bed, we can talk about it in the morning,” Widowmaker could feel her patience wearing thin, and the pull of sleep creeping up on her.  
“No, you don’t know. You don’t have to carry something like this with you,” Lena pokes at the accelerator, covering the glow for a moment.  
“I know very well what a burden is and how to carry it, don’t you ever think I don’t. I’ve carried the burden of murdering Gerard for years, Lena. I know how much it hurts,” Widowmaker could feel her throat starting to close up, thick with tears.  
“Ever since I broke the programming, I feel everything, and I remember everything I’ve done. All of those people, Lena. All of them are dead because of me. It sits on my shoulders like a weight and sometimes, I can barely breathe. Just because you can’t see it, doesn’t mean it isn’t there.”  
Widowmaker walks out of the room then, snapping out a terse, ‘don’t touch me’ when Lena reaches for her. She sits on the roof of the building, and tries to life their weight off her shoulders, but it won’t budge.  
They don’t talk to each other for days afterward.

\--  
Lena had only ever let Widowmaker touch her accelerator once, before she was brought in to Overwatch. Lena hadn’t been fast enough and had caught some shrapnel in her lower back, and could no longer feel her legs. Lena had taken Widowmaker’s hand and pressed it to the blue glow, let her feel the low hum of her mechanical heart through her palm. Widowmaker had looked at Lena then, even as the tinny shouting of Mercy through Lena’s comms had been urging her away. She had brushed her lips lightly to Lena’s forehead, just once, before grappling away.


End file.
